Lady Boss (1990)

  It didn't matter, because she was just as horny as he was.

  "Lennie," she whispered, rubbing against his back. "Wake up."

  He let out a groan and slowly opened his eyes. "What the--"

  he began.

  "Shhh." She held her finger to his lips, attempting to silence him.

  "Hey--I don't believe this," he mumbled, stil half asleep.

  "Believe it, baby. It's me. I'm back!" she exclaimed delightedly.*

  He rol ed over. "How the hel did you find me?" She laughed softly. "Who did you think you were dealing with here, a wife?"

  He propped himself up on one elbow. "You're too much, you know that?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "Jess told you where to find me, huh? I always knew she had a big mouth."

  "My sources are secret. I'm here. Isn't that enough?" As she spoke, her hands caressed his body. He attempted to push her away with very little real intent. He was mad, but losing the battle. "Jesus, Lucky. What happens next? Another great sex scene so-you can take off again when it's over?"

  "No way," she replied indignantly. "I never repeat myself.

  You should know that by now."

  "The only thing I know about you is that you're crazy."

  "I know I'm crazy, too. Six weeks away from you is the longest I can take."

  He sat up, brushing his hands through his hair. "Was it worth it? Did you make your deal?"

  She put her arms around him from behind. "I'l tel you al about it tomorrow."

  He shook his head. "How did you get in here?" She grinned. "I used to be a burglar. Didn't I tel you?"

  "Oh, baby, you're something else, you real y are. I 'should be mad at you."

  She scratched the back of his neck, a place she knew he loved to be touched. "Are you, Lennie?" He shook his head again. "What am I supposed to do?"

  "You're supposed to kiss me--make love to me. And we're supposed to have incredible sex." She took a beat, continuing to stroke the nape of his neck. "I'm ready," she whispered tantalizingly. "How about you?"

  He didn't fight it. What could he do? He loved her. He turned her over until she was flat on her back. And then he bent to kiss her. Slow, burning kisses, his lips scorching hers, making up for six weeks of pent-up passion.

  She sighed voluptuously. It was like the first time she'd ever been kissed. rt was like going off a diet and having chocolate for the first time in months. It was like a hot summer day after rain. It was like the. Time they'd made out on a raft in the South of France with nobody around to bother them.

  He kissed her long and hard until they both fel into the slow fast buildup to the wild rol er-coaster trip they knew awaited them.

  His hands moved ravenously down her body, touching her as only he could. "Qh, Christ," he groaned. "I stil love you.

  You know that, don't you?"

  "Did you think it was over?" she murmured, winding her body around his, touching him wherever she could.

  "I never know what to think when it comes to you." "You've got to learn to trust me, Lennie."

  And so they made love, long and leisurely, slow and even slower, their bodies fusing together as if nothing else in the world mattered. And at that very moment nothing else did.

  She gave herself up to ecstasy, luxuriating in the thought of a wild, throbbing release. And as it drew close, she whispered in his ear. "I want to come with you," she whispered urgently. "I want us to come together."

  "You got it, lady. There's no way I'm goin' anywhere without you."

  "I love you, Lennie," she sighed happily. "I love you so much."

  And they made it happen.

  And they made it last.

  And they ended up wrapped- into each other's arms, sleeping soundly until the morning light.

  Chapter 50

  Eddie Kane paced up and down Kathleen Le Paul's living room, talking fast. "My life's a fuck-up. I got no idea what I'm gonna do. You can't help me. Leslie can't. And Mickey doesn't give a fuck. I'm a failure. An' on top of everything else I hit my wife." He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand--a gesture of self-hatred. "I've never hit a woman before. Do you understand what I'm saying? I've never hit a woman, and I hit Leslie, who's the sweetest person in the world."

  Kathleen was real y not interested in hearing Ed-die's stream of consciousness. She was interested in getting him out of her house. "How did you get my address?" she asked edgily, her calculator brain figuring out how much he owed her.

  "You think I've dealt with you al this time and haven't found out a thing or two?" Eddie replied heatedly. "I tried to cal you from my car, but I couldn't get through." His facial twitch went into overdrive. "I gotta have some stuff, an' I gotta have it like now."

  "Eddie," Kathleen said patiently, although she didn't feel patient at al --she felt like throwing the bum out--"I made a delivery to you today. Another fifteen hundred dol ars' worth, which, I might remind you, is currently on your tab."

  "Yeah, wel , you wanna know why I laid one on my wife? You wanna know?" Now he smashed his fist into the palm of his hand. "She threw my stash down the friggin' garbage disposal."

  Other people's problems bored Kathleen. She had enough of her own. What Leslie did was not her concern.

  Eddie was on a rol . "How was I supposed to handle that?

  Say, 'Thank you dear for saving my soul'? No way. I'l get fuckin' straight when I wanna get straight." He walked over to the window and stared out. "I can stop any time. Right now I don't need crap." He turned back to her. "So you're gonna help me out."

  "If you think I keep a supply in my house, you're not as smart as I imagined," she said, hoping to get rid of him.

  There was no getting rid of Eddie. "Kathleen, don't talk to me like I'm a schmuck. Go to the safe or wherever the fuck you keep it an' get me somethin'."

  "Eddie, I can't encourage this kind of behavior. If you ever come to my house I'l be forced to put a bul et through your ass. I can always say I thought you were an intruder."

  Now he was getting real y edgy. "Fine, fine, whatever makes your day. Do I get the stuff or not?" "Cash only."

  This broad was getting on his nerves. "I gave you cash this morning."

  "You owed me. Now you owe me more. You haven't even paid for the stuff your wife dumped." He was truly surprised.

  "Shit! Am I supposed to pay for that?"

  "Am I?" she answered coldly.

  "So I owe you. Don't get your bal s in an uproar." It was quite obvious there was only one way to get him to leave.

  "Wait here," she said brusquely. "Don't touch anything."

  While she was away, he rifled his pockets. Al he could find were a few credit cards, his driver's license, and maybe two hundred and fifty bucks. That was it. Painful y he relived the scene with Leslie.

  "I threw it away, Eddie," she'd said, al sweetness and light.

  "We're going to start a new life."

  "You did what?" he'd shouted, unable to believe anyone could be that stupid.

  "I threw it away, Eddie," she'd repeated. "You're addicted."

  What was she al of a sudden, a nurse? "I hope you're kidding me," he'd said ominously.

  "No," she'd replied, as if it was her right to do what she liked.

  He'd slapped her so suddenly it surprised even him. One good whack across the face, and Leslie went down like a bowling pin. Oh, Christ, he hadn't even felt bad about it then. He'd gone on a rampage through the house, searching everywhere, throwing clothes out of drawers, dishes from kitchen cabinets. And then he'd walked back into the room where she stil lay on the floor. "Tel me where the fuck it is," he'd screamed.

  By that time she was crying. Her eye already beginning to puff up where his pinkie ring had caught it.

  "I threw it away," she sobbed.

  "Bitch!" he yel ed. "You know what I'm suffering. A little coke helps get me through the day. You're nothin' but a bloodsucking bitch! Al you want is my money, an' now I don't have any, you're drivin' me nuts."

  "Eddie, I
'm only trying to help you," she'd said miserably, tears running down her cheeks.

  "If this is the kind of help you give, get out of here. This is my house, an' I want you gone when I get back."

  He'd stormed out, climbed in his Maserati, and now he was at Kathleen's.

  When Kathleen came back into the room he handed her four fifty-dol ar bil s. "This'l hold you, unless you'd sooner have a check."

  "I don't take checks," she said icily.

  He hunched his shoulders. "What's the matter, you're not into trustin' me?"

  "I don't trust anybody," Kathleen Le Paul replied flatly. "And what am I supposed to do with a lousy two hundred dol ars?"

  She could stuff it up her snatch for al he cared. He needed a snort more than he needed anything. "Come on, baby,"

  he wheedled. "I'm good for the money." Maybe he should throw a fuck into her. Kathleen looked like the kind of woman who could do with it. "What are you doing about your debt to Bonnatti?" she asked curiously.

  He picked up a gold table lighter and studied it. This broad must be doing pretty wel for herself. "I put my house on the market. Monday I'l get a bank loan. He'l get paid, don't worry about it, and so wil you." She tried to control her underlying anger. "Eddie, I'm strictly a cash business. This is the last time." She handed him the package. "I mean it."

  "You want to do some together? Be sociable?" he suggested.

  Was he crazy? She wouldn't touch the stuff. "No, just get out of my house."

  Outside in the car he snorted the white powder from the back of his hand. And once the effect took hold, he immediately felt like a calmer, saner man.

  In fact, he felt as if he could accomplish anything.

  Leslie was stunned. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined Eddie would ever strike her. It brought back every bad memory. When she was a little girl, her stepfather had knocked the hel out of her. When she was a big girl, her first boyfriend had done the same thing. And when she'd run away to California with a thousand dol ars of her stepfather's money, which she reckoned he owed her, she'd vowed that no man was ever going to get away with hitting her again. Now this.

  Leslie had real y thought she loved Eddie. But Leslie was no victim. One blow, and he didn't have to tel her to go--she was out of there.

  Hurrying into the bedroom, she threw some clothes into a suitcase. Then she went outside to her Jeep, got in, and drove directly to Madame Loretta's.

  When the friendly old madam saw her, she was immediately sympathetic and took her upstairs.

  "Can I stay here until I figure out what to do?" Leslie asked mournful y.

  Madame Loretta nodded. "Are you coming back to work?"

  Leslie shook her head. "It's not what I want to do." "No pressure," replied Madame Loretta. "We'l talk tomorrow.

  Why don't you take a hot bath and get a good night's sleep?"

  Leslie nodded. At least she'd had somewhere to run to.

  Chapter 51

  Saturday morning in New York dawned crisp and clear. The sun filtered through the flimsy blinds in Lennie's loft and woke Lucky. For a moment she was disoriented, and then she remembered where she was and smiled to herself.

  Lennie was asleep next to her, exactly where he should be.

  Trying not to disturb him, she crept from bed, dashed into the bathroom, and switched on the shower. It was old and rusty and didn't have much pressure, butshe stood under it anyway, al owing the warm water to sting her into a state of awareness. Emerging from the shower, she wrapped herself in Lennie's white terry-cloth robe. It swamped her.

  Barefoot, she padded downstairs to the kitchen and inspected the contents of the fridge. There wasn't much there: a couple of eggs, some moldy tomatoes, a stale loaf of bread, and half a pint of sour milk. Hardly ingredients for a feast-.

  Cooking was not one of her greatest talents, but she could rustle up scrambled eggs and toast if the mood took her.

  "Hmmm," she murmured, surveying what was available. It didn't look very promising.

  Quietly she padded back upstairs, slipped into her clothes, grabbed her purse, found the keys to the loft lying on a table next to the bed, and let herself out.

  Down on the street it was New York crazy, hustle and bustle, and the smel s, sights, and sounds she'd missed, having been in California for six weeks.

  In the neighborhood grocery store she picked up fresh rol s, juice, eggs, fruit, butter, and milk. Then she had the old man behind the counter slice her half a pound of fresh ham.

  Satisfied, she hurried back. Lennie was stil asleep, and who could blame him? It had been some wonderful night!

  Busying herself in the kitchen, she mixed the eggs and heated the rol s. Then she squeezed fresh orange juice, made coffee, and set everything out on the kitchen table.

  After that she scrambled the eggs, and then yel ed out,

  "Hey, Lennie, get your sexy ass down here for breakfast."

  No response.

  Noticing a stereo, she slotted in a Stevie Wonder tape and

  "Isn't She Lovely" blasted out.

  Final y Lennie staggered downstairs with rumpled hair and a half-asleep look.

  "Good morning," she sang out cheerful y.

  "I had this wild dream," he mumbled. "Who're you?"

  "Your wife. Remember?"

  "A wife who cooks?" he said blankly, shaking his head. "I don't have a wife who cooks."

  She offered him a spoonful of eggs. "Try it and live!"

  Gingerly he tasted the eggs. "Hmm . . . not bad." "Not bad, my ass. They're fuckin' great! Admit it." "You're back."

  "Oh, yeah!"

  "Stil as crazy as ever, huh?" he said, sitting at the table.

  She grinned. "Would you have it any other way?" "It'd be nice if you stayed home occasional y." "Stop nagging!" She stood back and surveyed him. "Hey--look at you in the daylight. Is that the very same beard that was scratching the hel out of me al night long?"

  "The very same."

  "Hmm . . ."

  "You like?"

  "I hate."

  "It's gone."

  She put her arms around his shoulders, anticipating the surprise she had for him, but not wanting to reveal it yet.

  "I'm real y back."

  "I noticed. For how long this time?"

  "No more trips, Lennie. We'l be together al summer long.

  That's a Santangelo promise."

  "A Golden promise," he corrected.

  She smiled. "Right!"

  He surveyed the table. "So . . . what made you turn into housewife of the year?"

  "I thought you might be hungry." She bent down and kissed his neck. "Did I make you hungry, Lennie?"

  "Ravenous!"

  "Real y?"

  He twisted around and his hands began to stray beneath her T-shirt.

  She backed away. "Later. I want to see you eat." He ate like a starving man, grabbing everything in sight. "This is great," he said with his mouth ful . "Best meal you've ever cooked me."

  She laughed. "The only meal I've ever cooked you, right?"

  "You made me soup once."

  "Was it good?"

  "Passable."

  "Thanks a lot!" She glanced around the loft. "This place is a mess. Who's been looking after you?" "Nobody."

  "I can see that. What have you been doing?" "What I should have done a long time ago. Writing a script. A movie I might direct."

  "Oh, we're a director now, are we?" she teased. "Why not?

  If Grudge Freeport can do it, anyone can."

  "You're talking to the right person," she encouraged. "Wil you star in it too?"

  He laughed. "Hey--you think I'd let anyone else do it? It's a terrific role."

  "When can I read it?"

  "Not until it's finished." He paused. "So, I guess you heard I walked off the film?"

  "It's not exactly a secret."

  "I warned everyone it had to happen. They'l probably sue, but who cares? It was something I had to do."

  She almost told him about Pa
nther, but held back just in time. It was too important to blurt out.

  "Don't worry, they won't sue," she said reassuringly.

  "What makes you say that? I hear Mickey Stol i is so crazed he nearly blew a blood vessel."

  "Listen to me, Lennie. I know they won't sue." "Why?" he joked. "Are you getting Gino to put a hit on them?"

  She laughed. "Gino doesn't do that kind of thing." "But he could arrange it if he wanted to, huh?" "Why do you always imagine my father was such a major gangster?"

  "Wasn't he?"

  "He shipped booze in during Prohibition. And then he ran a speakeasy. After that he got into Vegas and became respectable."

  "Sure."

  "Real y. Have you seen him?"

  "I haven't seen anybody. I've been holed up here." "We must cal him."

  "Later." He pushed his chair away. from the table and got up. Then he reached out his arms for her. "C'mere, cook."

  "Why?"

  "Because I want to try to knock you up."

  She grinned. "Sweet-talker."

  "And don't you love it!"

  Chapter 52

  Saturday morning in Los Angeles was smoggy. Emilio Sierra couldn't help but notice that Rita had stayed the night. Her clothes made a trail from the living room to the bedroom, and she herself was asleep in his bed. Score one for Emilio. He was some stud!

  Nudging her roughly, he urged her to wake up. "What time is it?" Rita mumbled, hugging the pil ow.

  "I told you--it's late, an' I gotta go out."

  Rita buried her face in the pil ow. "I'l stay here." "You won't stay anywhere," Emilio replied, agitated. "I gotta lock the apartment."

  "Whaddaya think? I'm gonna rip you off?" Rita accused.

  "Naw. My mother's comin' over," he lied. "I better drop you off."

  She dressed, unabashed about strutting naked in front of him. She was a hot little number al right. Although not quite so hot in the harsh light of morning with the sun streaming through the windows, hitting her unmade-up face.

  "Come on," Emilio urged, forcing her to dress in a hurry.

  She did so, complaining al the way.

  Then he hustled her out to his car, drove her to her apartment, and said a fast goodbye.